Cicadas

 

Spring and the rain that brings out the vivid green of the new leaves

You laugh unexpectedly

Catch me off guard, make me look up.

I like to think we are cicadas, 13, 17 year cicadas,

Buried underground for all that time,

A secret that the earth holds,

Waiting like a dream.

And then the hour comes and we emerge,

Blinding, like the sunlight, in our intensity,

More than a flock and more than a swarm

More and more and more until our cast- off shells pile up in drifts

Until our dead bodies coat the earth,

Our eggs safely in the ground again.

It is spring that makes me think this

I bury myself in my thoughts for so long

And then you laugh and I look up

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